Balser put his hand into one of the deep pockets, and, drawing out the bear’s ear, handed it to Liney, saying:—
“I cut this off for you because I like you.”
The girl took the bear’s ear, blushed a deep red, thanked him, and murmured:—
“And I will keep it, ugly as it is, because I—because—I—like you.”
CHAPTER V.
THE WOLF HUNT.
It was a bright day in August. The whispering rustle of the leaves as they turned their white sides to the soft breath of the southwest wind, the buzzing of the ostentatiously busy bees, the lapping of the river as it gurgled happily along on its everlasting travels, the half-drowsy note of a thrush, and the peevish cry of a catbird seemed only to accentuate the Sabbath hush that was upon all nature.
The day was very warm, but the deep shade of the elms in front of the cabin afforded a delightful retreat, almost as cool as a cellar.
Tom and Liney Fox had walked over to visit Balser and Jim; and Sukey Yates, with her two brothers, had dropped in to stay a moment or two, but finding such good company, had remained for the day.
The children were seated at the top of the slope that descended to the river, and the weather being too warm to play any game more vigorous than “thumbs up,” they were occupying the time with drowsy yawns and still more drowsy conversation, the burden of which was borne by Tom.